Frustrations and Journeys

I’ve been a bit frustrated lately. I had thought to wait until my frustration settles, but sometimes this settling comes through writing, so I choose to write. I am normally a very optimistic and hopeful person, but at certain times, mindsets of our times threaten to overwhelm me. More specifically, those in the spotlight who tend to use the vulnerability of those who will listen, because they have realized the art of manipulation and fear mongering. At the same time, I must realize my hypocrisy to some extent; since I left religion to explore life in all its facets, I have tried to advocate for the right of others to live their own journey. At times, in my frustration, I lose patience with this stance.

I think of this often: if the me of today had come from the now to speak to the me of twelve years ago, I would have panicked and run away with my fingers in my ears. I simply wasn’t ready to walk this path although events were already lining up towards this end. Journeys are like that—deeply personal to a large degree. I was still desperately trying to understand myself, figure out my beliefs and disbeliefs, and sift through the confusing teachings and conflicting feelings that swirled within.

As I’ve said before, my thoughts have evolved, much like many others. This is not to imply that my way of thinking is higher than another who might still disagree with me, it is just different. I’ve spent hours researching, contemplating, and wrestling through the unlearning process I undertook as I left religion. I’ve come to believe that one of the most dangerous aspects of religion(s) is the art of teaching its followers what to think instead of how to think. Many in religion might disagree with this, but from my own experience this has been true. (*and as a side note, I must thank my parents for instilling the notion within me to follow my gut and my heart in matters of life.)

In religion, we are often told what to think about everything: gays, abortions, other religions, and life in general. While based on Scripture, in many cases, it is the personal interpretation of such Scripture, by those held in high regard as God’s handpicked teachers and leaders, that comes across as the truth—and most often as the absolute truth. Doubting and questioning is seen as negative or at best a sign of immaturity. I know this, too, from my own experience. This viewpoint twisted my own mind against me for many years—the problem is me; if I just knew more, I would see that they were right, my doubts and questions would disappear, and I would stop struggling to believe. After I was booted out, quite abruptly and literally, I still continued to follow this mentality. My plan was to figure out where I’d gone wrong. It was only after I had nothing else to lose that I began to honestly investigate Scripture for myself. This was ultimately the very thing that awakened me. I realized the moldable-nature of Scripture that leads to its manipulation by the institution of religion. After much struggle with myself, I had to acknowledge that selective pickings will back up almost anything and everything.

Once I allowed myself to explore the questions I’d held for so long, I inadvertently freed myself from within. I was able to love myself and embrace the fact that I was gay. I was able to understand that while I firmly believe there should be fewer abortions, it is not my place to tell another woman how she should feel or respond to an unwanted pregnancy. Other religions are not the followers of Satan I once thought them to be. The fact is this: most of us in this life are looking to live a happy life, free from want and fear, and we’re figuring this thing out as we go.

But herein lies my hypocrisy at times.  In my frustration, I become impatient; I forget that we all must walk our own journey. I get frustrated when someone deems me a baby-killer, because I think the issue of abortion is much more complicated than teaching a failed abstinence program that most will admit is a farce. I get frustrated when people don’t value my marriage and consider it inferior to theirs even though our love is the strongest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. Gratefully, though, I eventually see the error of my ways and, after I calm these frustrations, I can usually wish people peace on their own journey. They are not the they, because I firmly believe that we are all us, and I commit myself once again to the reconcilable belief that we are all in this thing together.

Live your life; walk your journey; be at peace.

Namaste